


exit, pursued by a bear

by TheSwanWriter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 6x08 missing scene, 6x08 spoilers, Bad Dirty Talk, Dirty Talk, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Light Dom/sub, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Switching, Unrequited Love, and also 'fuck' the Lannisters, basically fuck the Lannisters, but they fuck anyways, confused!Brienne, drunk!Jaime, fight for dominance, if we're being honest, lmao i hate myself sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:25:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7186991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSwanWriter/pseuds/TheSwanWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But he is Jaime Lannister.</p><p>And she is Brienne of Tarth.</p><p>And this isn't a story that her septa can tell her until she falls asleep with visions of enchanting feasts and handsome knights dancing in her head. This is war, and this is honor, and they are both knights, and gods know the miserable fates of knights that fuck where they fight, knights that love their lords and knights that love at all. </p><p>// a missing scene from 6.08; jaime sees brienne before he frees edmure //</p>
            </blockquote>





	exit, pursued by a bear

She moves to the billowing flaps that enclose the tent, frown on her lips, "One last thing, Ser Jaime..."

The look he gives her is all charm and camraderie, and for a minute Brienne's entire body seems to ache, because while her duty is shouting from one shoulder with fiery obligation to maintain posture and do her job, something else whispers from the opposite, something irrationally demanding her to ignore all propriety and respect and beg Jaime Lannister to for once, just listen to her. 

"Yes Lady Brienne?" The reply drips with signature sarcasm and, at the same time, something that she wishes to foolishly label affection.

And her knightly pledge is banging on her chest, a hammering reminder of her sworn loyalty to the girl who sent her here, the girl whom she'd willingly give her life for, the girl who would be the reason that Brienne might possibly have to hold a knife to Jaime Lannister's throat. 

She wonders, in the absence of space between them, if he's as torn between this as she is. But he is a Lannister, and Brienne wishes, for one terrible moment, that this was a battle she could lose, because she cannot abandon her duty but she does not know if she can bring herself to break the only man left in the world who'd looked at her with any sort of respect. 

"Should I fail to persuade the Blackfish to surrender," 

He watches her.

"And if you attack the castle,"

He watches her.

"Honor compels me to fight for Sansa's kin."

Honor, she wants to yell at him, you know I would not do this if I had any other choice, but for the love of the Gods, please give me another choice.

He doesn't miss a beat. "Of course it does."

And does he not realize what she's saying, how can he be so completely obtuse.

There's a part of Brienne that dreams and hopes, a foolish part that wants him to change his mind, wants him to say to Seven Hells with Cersei and with honor and with the Lannister name, wants him to assure her that he won't attack, that maybe he'll even abandon his post and join Sansa's fight.

But he is Jaime Lannister.

And she is Brienne of Tarth.

And this isn't a story that her septa can tell her until she falls asleep with visions of enchanting feasts and handsome knights dancing in her head. This is war, and this is honor, and they are both knights, and gods know the miserable fates of knights that fuck where they fight, knights that love their lords and knights that love at all. 

"To fight you."

Like a tempest-tossed ship on the Sapphire Isle, Brienne allows herself to get lost in the emotions of his eyes, the one part of him that has never been able to lie to her, but at this point, she is unsure that Jaime himself knows what the truth is and he is unreadable.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

There is sincerity, honesty, pain in his voice.

But all the honesty in the world does not change the truth.

She leaves.

\--------------------- 

Even after a few cups of wine and ale, he isn't convinced the Blackfish will surrender. He's going to have to fight his way out of this one.

The problem is not that he's going to lose. He won't lose, they're the Lannister army and they've got the Freys with them--whatever little that's worth. No, the problem is that he's going to win, and that would all be fine and good, if she hadn't shown up that morning, familiar deadpan look on her plain face, achingly honest emotions on her sleeve like they always were.

Brienne of Tarth is a pain in his arse, and if he's being honest, he wouldn't have it any other way, unless that way involved her not getting between him and his duty in such a dangerous fashion. But now he's compromised. The situation couldn't be any fucking worse unless Cersei herself were chained in front of the castle, subject to whatever sickeningly awful plans the Blackfysh had. 

He knows he's going to have to fight her. He knows he'll probably lose.

Yes, the battle will be won, but if it comes down to him and Brienne, he doesn't stand a chance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cersei is laughing at him, ploying smirk painted on her flawless features. Somewhere in the back of his mind, she's mocking him, finding endless amusement in the fact that the only other woman he's ever felt something for is Brienne the Beauty, as compared to her, the crown jewel of his House and the Seven Kingdoms. Yes, his loyalty is to Cersei, of course, because she's Cersei: she's his twin, his other half, the only one who could ever possibly love him because they're both fucked up in ways nobody else could possibly understand.

Brienne could never understand.

He leaves the circle of Lannister men, laughing and talking like they aren't in the middle of a damn siege and heads back to his tent, just about shoving a sword through the gut of whatever grunt tries to talk to him on his way in.

"I'm not to be disturbed until morning, now fuck off," he mutters as he throws open the cover and steps inside.

It's only then that he sees what the unnamed officer was trying to inform him of. Brienne is standing inside, uncomfortably rigid and proper, but she holds no sword and has no armor on. He was beginning to wonder if she ever willingly took it off.

Jaime's really not in the mood for this shit.

He gives her an exaggerated once-over. "So this is what they decided to send me to take away my troubles for the night? How thoughtful." It's a low-blow. They both pretend not to care.

She is cold as the marble that forms the halls of the Great Sept, the hall where he stood when his daughter died, when his son died, the hall where he fucked Cersei next to his son's corpse in hope of feeling something other than complete and utter numbness. It never worked for him. Nothing did at this point. "Ser Jaime, I'm here to inform you--"

"The Blackfish won't surrender, you're going to have to do your duty and kill me, blah blah blah. That's why you're here, right? Good knight, you are. Cowardly, perhaps. Knifing people in the back is a coward's job," Jaime bites out, turning to pour himself a badly needed cup of wine. One more cup can't hurt. Brienne isn't leaving.

"I am no coward."

The flask is empty. He drops it to the floor and turns on his heel. "Guess that makes two of us, but that's not what they say, you know. You're still Renly's murderer to some. But I suppose we both know there's only one Kingslayer in this tent, huh?"

He's advancing closer to her, and for a minute he thinks she looks almost uncomfortable. He could swear that he hears her breath hitch as she backs away from him. "Lady Brienne, I'm probably going to have to kill you come the morning," he mutters, dropping his gaze to her mouth. Her lips look rather soft. Maybe he's had too much wine.

"There's still a chance to end this without bloodshed," she replies desperately. Oh, he's sure that somewhere in her massively thick skull, she's got some ridiculous plan about how they can lie their way out of it and not have to fight. He leans back on his heels and she lets out a breath.

But it's then that something clicks in Jaime's alcohol-addled mind, and he realizes that damn her, she's right. There is.

Or at the very least, not that much bloodshed.

Yes, he'll have to let that bastard Edmure go, even if he would really really love to bash his face in, but it'll work a hell of a lot better than fighting the Blackfish.

An hour ago he still had some semblance of hope that Brienne would succeed. A ridiculous hope, perhaps, but a real one. Now he was becoming ever more aware that this could easily be the last time he saw her annoying face. She would go back to Sansa and the North, he would go back to King's Landing, home, Cersei.

The thought of seeing her makes him vaguely ill.

He's definitely had too much to drink.

"Tell me, Lady Brienne, have you ever fucked anyone?"

A red flush creeps up her cheeks, and her face is covered in instant confusion, and then, clarity and annoyance and disbelief. "You're drunk."

Jaime shrugs. "Probably. You're not."

Brienne looks disappointed. He doesn't feel that bad about it. She opens her mouth and he's staring at it again. "I came to tell you goodbye. I know you won't listen to any more I have to say, so there is no point in saying anything."

A frown plays on his own lips. "Goodbye? I'm fairly certain I'll be seeing you very soon, am I wrong?" 

Brienne looks away. "A proper farewell, Ser. I'd rather speak to you before we descend to the fields of battle."

"I'm probably going to have to kill you come the morning," he repeats, but along with it comes a careful look in her direction.

He moves to corner her, tilting his head to study her reaction. Her face is still flushed, and as unattractive as she's always been said to be, the candlelight almost flatters her--softens her hard edges. She looks more like a lady here.

He doesn't want a lady.

"You didn't answer my question," he finally says. Brienne's face scrunches and he could swear her pupils seemed to swell in the dim lighting. 

"You're drunk and you have no right to ask me that," she answers before moving to walk away from him. He grabs her arm with his good hand and she freezes as he moves in front of her.

"This could very well be the last time we see each other, shouldn't we enjoy it?" 

And yes, he's drunk, but maybe--probably--the artficial courage that has taken him is simply doing what sober Jaime would never have the balls or stupidity to do.

Brienne's finally catching on, and she looks completely and utterly bewildered. 

"Confusion really doesn't become you, you know? You're much more fun when you're biting back and now you're just being boring," Jaime mutters, inching forward and forcing her to hit the desk as she moves back. 

"Ser Jaime, allow me to pass, I must go," she says then, but her heart isn't in her protests, and he knows this.

He pushes himself against her now. She averts her eyes from his. "Must you now?" He's teasing her, at this point he knows she can feel him hardening against her leg, but her stubbornness knows no bounds.

"Get off me," she insists weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Jaime lifts a hand to her neck and closes it around it, grasping tightly enough to stunt her breathing.

"Make me."

She finally looks into his eyes and her stare is glazed over with a mixture of lust and determination. Jaime smirks, and then she's playing the game and she's grabbing his face and shoving her lips to his.

She's inexperienced and he can tell. It's a mixture of hot, wet, tongues and teeth and he's too drunk to really lead her in any way but he can't remember the last time kissing felt so damn good. Kissing Brienne is not like kissing Cersei. When he kisses Cersei, that is the only time she lets herself be controlled. She is guided and she is comforted and she doesn't have to be in charge for once. Kissing Brienne is a fight for dominance, it's swords against swords, and he wonders if this is what being with a man is like, all bite and unbridled want and no delicacy or romance. It's passionate and furious and in some stunning way, it's the most raw and intimate thing he could imagine.

She slips her tongue into his mouth for the first time and he meets her, battling her for control as he tugs on her bottom lip with his front teeth. Brienne bites back, and she swears she can taste blood as he lets out a groan of arousal.

He pulls her in his direction and turns, shoving her to fall onto where his bed is set. Before she can bring herself up, he's straddling her and she's underneath him, practically writhing as he descends onto her neck with his teeth, leaving swelling purple marks against her deceptively delicate-looking skin. 

"Jaime, what are you doing," she frantically says, holding back a moan.

"Saying goodbye."

He moves his hand to undo the laces of her clothes, and she moves to assist him and soon they're both lying bare on the furs, lips swollen and pupils blown and ready to be completely and utterly ravished.

He continues biting down her collarbones until he reaches the swell of her breast, then he takes one of her nipples in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it, flicking it lightly, teasingly. Brienne's back arches and she lets out a flustered groan, so he takes it in his mouth again, this time biting and tugging, pulling it away from her as he moves his hand to the other one to pinch and pull. 

Her hips rise up to meet him and she's grasping the sides of his bed until her knuckles are white. Jaime brings his face up to kiss her again and starts lowering his hand, but then she stops him.

"My turn," she says breathlessly, before flipping him over onto the bed and kissing him herself. She rakes her hands down his chest, leaving burning scratches in the wake of her short fingernails, but then she begins to kiss her way down his body, stopping to suck every sensitive spot she encounters.

Jaime sees what she's doing and tries to protest. "Brienne, you don't--seven bloody hells." As Brienne takes his length into her mouth, it's all he can do not to cry out in pleasure. Cersei had sucked him off once before promptly deciding she never wanted his cock in her mouth ever again, but Brienne was working him like he was her god and she wanted nothing more than to fulfill him.

She brings her tongue up against the underside of his shaft and he stifles a pleasured yelp. "Fuck, Brienne, how the fuck--" but she shuts him up by swirling her tongue around the head of his cock and digging her nails into his arse. He knows he isn't going to last long like this, watching her look up at him with those wide eyes, so completely bare for him, so he grabs her hair and pulls her up. 

"I want to fuck you so hard that the only thing you remember is how to scream my name. Not your honor, not your duty, not Sansa fucking Stark, just me, just Jaime fucking Lannister taking your maidenhood in a fucking tent like some fucking tavern whore," he whispers into her ear before seizing it in his teeth. 

Brienne moans underneath him, releasing the last of her inhibitions as he takes control and pins her under his body. He lowers his hand and rubs circles around her clit, kissing her senseless at the same time. 

"Don't tell me you haven't imagined this before," he whispers against her lips. "In the dead of night when Sansa sleeps in the next room, you're getting off to the thought of me fucking you, my tongue on your cunt, my hands in your hair. She would be so disappointed, wouldn't she?"

Whatever reply Brienne started to think of was cut off as Jaime slid a finger inside her.

"You didn't fight this at all, no, deep down, under all that honor and knightly pride, you're just another whore, aren't you? Begging to be fucked by someone stronger, prouder, better than you," he lowers his mouth to her cunt and begins to lick and suck his way around her swollen folds, the pink flesh tasting better than all the ale in the Seven Kingdoms. He plunges his tongue inside her before flicking it against her clit, and fucking her with his hand at the same time.

"Gods, Jaime, fuck, I need--oh gods, I need..." Brienne moans and tears form in the corner of her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. He can feel her throbbing against his hand, edging closer and closer to orgasm with every lick and every curl of his hand.

He rises to meet her lips and kisses her. She can taste herself on him. He smirks against her mouth. "I want you to beg me for it."

Brienne looks at him, completely and utterly defeated. "Please, I--"

He stares her down and raises a hand to her throat again, closing his fist around it.

"I want to hear you say it," he demands, his voice hoarse with arousal and hunger and need.

"Fuck me, oh gods please fuck me," she whimpers.

And with that, he pushes himself inside her, no warning, no slow adjust, just hard and fast. She lets out a cry as he pulls himself out and thrusts again. It builds and she brings up her face to bury it in his shoulder.

They reach their peak at the same time, building like a tidal wave that finally crashes into destruction and chaos. They reach climax and the sound of them breathing each other's names is like a prayer to all the gods that ever were. Jaime thinks he's never heard a more beautiful sound than his own name on her lips.

\--------

Shortly after, he will put on his armor and go see Edmure. He will free him and he will take Riverrun back and he will go back to King's Landing and see Cersei and he will be a Lannister. Brienne will put on her armor, fetch Pod, go back to Riverrun and attempt to leave with the Blackfish because they all know how this is going to go down.

He does not stay in bed and they do not warm themselves in each others' arms. He is Jaime Lannister and she is Brienne of Tarth, and this may very well be the last time they see each other. They know this. So they don't say another word to each other. The wave he gives her as she sets down the river is such a final gesture, but this is goodbye in every way.

She wishes it were not.

So does he.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I had far too many emotions after the extremely underrated scenes between Jaime and Brienne in tonight's episode. It's a mess, I'm very tired and it's very early in the morning and I am so so sorry that you read this but it's too late now


End file.
